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" And since yon 've lost your bonnet, while I 've lost my hat, 
An umbrella we '11 borrow and under it stav." — Page 110. 



BRIGHT LITTLE POEMS 

FOE 

BRIGHT LITTLE PEOPLE 

BY 
CATHERINE WHEELER 

n 

fflu$trate& 

BY 

FLORENCE A. MYTINGER 



Dear little comrades, I am but a child; 

But let me you, my younger playmates, teach, 
That I may with simplicity the while 

List to the precious gospel that you preach 




SAN FRANCISCO 

THE WHITAKER AND RAY COMPANY 

(INCORPORATED) 
1902 



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THT 

CONGRESS, 



1902 

C<"«*/PinM-r cntov 
CLAft* CC-XXa No. 

corv b. 



1402 



copyright, 1902 
By Catherine Wheeler 



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CONTENTS. 

PAGE 

Marigold by the Garden Wall 7 

At the Paek 9 

A Wild Night 11 

The Invitation to Fairyland 13 

Off foe Faieyland 15 

A Tbansfoemation 17 

Vacation Days 19 

The Squieeel's Appeal 21 

The Palm-Readee 25 

An Unexpected Realization , 27 

A Meeited Fate 29 

The Deee-Hunt 31 

The Bieth of the Flo wees 33 

To a Loyal Heaet 36 

The Butterfly 38 

The Novembee Child , 39 

Marian at hee Daening 40 

Lei Aloha's Answee 43 

The Passing of Summee , 45 

On the Road to Ingleside 47 

At the Beach 48 

At the Chutes 52 

A Ceuel Fate 54 

What hee Nephew Looked Like 56 

The Fostee-Fathee 59 

When the Dog-Show Comes to Town 63 

Maey Jane 66 

A Jail Deliveey 69 

5 



6 Contents. 

PAGE 

The Merry-Go-Round 73 

On Fancy's Loom 76 

Ehymes for Younger People : — 

Ten Little Love-Birds 81 

A Small Tyrant 84 

The Esquimau 86 

The Mi-Careme Ball 88 

The Grocery Cat 91 

Dressing the Baby 93 

The Brown Chinee 94 

The Dislikes op Sir Barney 96 

Two Loving Sisters 98 

Little Miss Droop 99 

An Exchange of Compliments 100 

A Disappointed Aeronaut 101 

The Ringing Rhymes of Alliterative Archibald 102 

Alliterative Archibald's Song 108 

Miss Solemnica Prim and Miss Jollica Gay . . 110 



BRIGHT LITTLE POEMS 

FOR 

BRIGHT LITTLE PEOPLE. 



MARIGOLD BY THE GARDEN WALL. 

Marigold by the garden wall, 

Awake, awake, awake! 
The rosy billows in the east 

Show day 5 s about to break. 
Unfold your pretty petals, dear, 

And ope your dreamy eyes, 
For the sun now sends a shaft of gold 

Athwart the eastern skies. 

Marigold by the garden wall, 

Hold high your crowned head, 
That the sun god may around you 

His golden halo shed. 
For now it is high noon, dear, 

And he rides in state above, 
Whence he looks down on earth and flowers 

With eyes of yearning love. 

Marigold by the garden wall, 
Droop low your drowsy head; 

7 



8 Bright Little Poems 

From saddening colors in the west, 
The sun now seeks his bed. 

So close your sweet brown eyes, dear, 
Ere length'ning shadows fall, 

And the purple robe of twilight 
Covers flowers, earth, and all. 



For Bright Little People. 9 



AT THE PARK. 

Dorothy, Mabel, and Dick 

Are off for a donkey-ride, 
Each on a burro that never will kick, 

Nor with haste unseemly stride, — 
Three dear little burros in robes of gray, 
Who patiently trot the livelong day, 
For a bed of straw and a wisp of hay. 

Dear little Baby Ned 

In a carriage prefers to go, — 
In a carriage drawn by a milk-white steed 

(A dignified goat, and slow), 
Who, with his friends, the burros in gray, 
Must toil for his living day by day, — 
For his bed of straw and his wisp of hay. 

But hardly adown the track 

Has moved this procession gay, 

When the leader announces, " We 're coming 
back!" 
By a loud and thankful bray, — 



10 Bright Little Poems 

A bray that says plainly to every one, 
" I do not regard my part of this fun, 
Though a bed await me, and hay." 

Children of lightsome heart, 

Have you no word to say 
To the kind dumb friends who have done 
their part 

Toward making your holiday, — 
To the stately goat in his snow-white coat, 

Or his friends, the burros in gray? 
Oh, each day is made glad by some humble 

one, 
Who asks in return for his duty done, 

But a bed and a wisp of hay. * 



For Bright Little People. 11 



A WILD NIGHT. 

A Will-o'-the-wisp lured a Whippoorwill 

From his perch in a tree, one night. 
(It was late for a hird to be awake, 

But this fellow's eyes were bright.) 
Far over the bog the startled bird 

Chased with shrill, unearthly cry 
The beckoning gleam, that danced ahead 

Just faster than wings could fly. 

In reply to the call of the Whippoorwill 

Came the hoot of the horned owl, 
Till its echoes aroused the clarion voice 

Of every sleeping fowl. 
From bush and tree, from barn and eaves, 

They answered with interest keen, 
And their napping wings, as down they came, 

Made a weird, uncanny scene. 

They followed the wake of the Whippoorwill 
As he chased the alluring light; 

They answered his cry in every tongue 
Known to birddom, that moonless night; 



12 Bright Little Poems 

And morning found them far from home, 

Wing-weary, and full of pain, 
With nothing to show for the night's hubbub 

But a chase that was all in vain ! 



For Bright Little People. 13 



THE INVITATION TO FAIKYLAND. 

Hark! In the twilight sweet and clear 
A tinkling sound breaks on the ear. 
Faint it begins, and then louder swells, 
Like the chiming of tiny silver bells. 
'T is the sound of elfin voices rare, 
And the singers float in the evening air. 

" Things of glee, Fairies, we 
All night hold our revelry. 
Happy be; — come and see 
What fair elfland holds for thee." 

Lo! In the deepening summer night, 
The twinkle of many a tiny light! 
Faint they come out, then stronger shed 
Their silvery gleam o'er each fairy head, 
As this wandering band of minstrels wings 
Its flight over earth, and sweetly sings, — 

"Things of air, free from care, 
We are floating everywhere. 



14 Bright Little Poems 

Come and share pleasures rare 
In our distant elfland fair." 

Faint grow the notes in the summer night. 
Fainter, then out goes each twinkling light. 
But, once you have seen, and once you have 

heard, 
The lights ever beckon, your heart 's ever 

stirred 
By the sound of that elfin music clear 
(Which, unless you 're in tune, you may 

never hear), — 

"On we soar; go before 
To ope for you our elfland door. 
Grieve no more: sorrow 's o'er 
Once you reach the Fairy Shore." 



For Bright Little People. 15 



OFF FOR FAIRYLAND. 

On the morrow we leave for the Fairy Shore, 
And once we sail, we return no more. 
Our boat is a rainbow-tinted shell, 
With a rudder of pearl that will steer us well. 
Of the silken seaweed our sails are made, 
While our flashing oars have a coral blade. 

We '11 start at dawn, and we '11 row all day 
Till we come to the realm where Quaint Fan- 
cies play. 
Here we '11 scuttle our boat, for, once you learn 
.How the Fairies live, you may ne'er return. 
So our glistening skiff to the deeps we '11 send, 
And happy rest at our journey's end. 

0, bright shines the sun o'er the Fairies' Isle! 
Blue is the sky, with a winsome smile! 
Fragrant the air, while zephyrs warm 
Lull to repose with a soothing balm, 
On pillow of moss or rose-leaf bed, 
While the Fairies their feast of welcome 
spread. 



16 Bright Little Poems 

Luscious that feast will be, and rare, — 

Honey of bee and nectar of pear, 

Juice of the melon and purple grape, 

In calyxes served, of dainty shape. 

On a gossamer cloth will each place be laid, 

Of such weave as is only by Fairies made. 

When the sun goes down, and we cannot see, 
A light we '11 pluck from the lantern tree. 
(We have seen such trees in our baby dreams, 
Where, like glowing cherry, each soft light 

gleams.) 
Then guided by music faint and sweet, 
We '11 watch the tripping of Fairy feet. 

On the morrow we sail for the Fairy Shore, 
And once we start, we return no more. 
Our glistening boat, that waits on the beach, 
To the deeps we '11 send when those realms 

we reach; 
For once you take what the Fairies give, 
A mortal you never more may live. 



For Bright Little People. 17 



A TRANSFORMATION. 

Long ago, a little bulb 

Slept in a garden bright, 
Until at last it yawned and stretched 

One ringer to the light. 
Then was reproach on every lip, 

Dismay on every face, 
For 't was plain that finger's owner 

Had no business in that place. 

" Root it out! The thing 's an onion! " 

Cried the people. All concurred 
(While the poor bulb, hearing, trembled, 

Though of course it spoke no word,) 
But one little brown-eyed maiden 

Of a kindly, tender heart, 
Who said, "No. No one shall touch it 

While I 'm here to take its part." 

Then again the intruder trembled, 
But this time with gratitude, 

Until it felt like leaping 

Right up where the maiden stood ; 



18 Bright Little Poems 

For the brown bulb had a secret, 
Which it knew it must repress, 

Until sun and air and water 
Should compel it to confess. 



But the gentle brown-eyed maiden 

She did not its secret share; 
She only knew it was despised 

And lonesome, growing there; 
So she watered it, and helped it 

Send its young limbs up on high, 
Till one morn a regal lily 

Stood and smiled up at the sky. 




For Bright Little People. 19 



VACATION DAYS. 

Vacation days, vacation days, 

You stay so long away! 
And when at last you visit us, 

How short you make your stay I 

When it 's fall, we long for Christmas, 
When it's spring, we wait for June; 

For both keep ever calling, 

Till our brains sing just one tune, — 

Vacation days, vacation days, 

You stay so long away ! 
And when at last you visit us, 

How short you make your stay! 

But Christmas comes in proper time, 
With its gifts and splendid cheer. 

And when 't is past we forward look 
To the noontide of the year, 



20 



Bright Little Poems 



When waving blue-eyed iris 
And nodding poppy-crown 

Wait by the road to greet us, 
As we leave the dusty town. 




For Bright Little People. 21 



THE SQUIRREL'S APPEAL. 

I 'in a little, gray-clad squirrel, 

And my cage is in a shop, 
Where all day long my funny ways 

Cause the passers-by to stop. 
But if they knew my inward grief, 

As this endless wheel I turn, 
In my frantic efforts to escape, 

They would not laugh, but mourn. 

When first my captor brought me 

From the woods, where I belong, 
I thought of me he 'd tire, 

Set me free, and right this wrong. 
But as days grew into weeks and months, 

And months merged into years, 
Hope wellnigh died, and left me 

But my anxious thoughts and fears. 

How can the people stare so 

At a wild thing in a cage? 
Let one of them be in my place, 

And he 'd die with shame and rage. 



22 Bright Little Poems for Bright Little People. 

But perhaps they think I 'rn happy 
When I race, and spin, and dart, 

Because they cannot see the grief 
That 's gnawing at my heart. 

Is there no little maid or lad, 

No friend of liberty, 
No dear, unselfish, kindly soul, 

To buy and set me free? 
If one such came to my relief, 

I 'd die with gratitude, 
For I 'd gladly give my wretched life, 

For one last romp through the wood. 




HHHH FJe">«tv«-«-7'fvl , n<|«iV. 

" Here 's where Marjorie found a dime." 



Bright Little Poems for Bright Little People. 25 

THE PALM-READER. 

Mother. 

Here 's a Gypsy at the door, 
Deeply versed in mystic lore. 
Wash your hands, and let us see, 
Bob, and Joe, and Marjorie, 
If she can tell what happened here 
While mamma was away last year. 
When your hands are nice and clean, 
We '11 place a chair and call her in. 

Gypsy. 

Hither come, sweet children three, 
And show your pretty palms to me. 

(Reads.) 

Here 's where Joe was late for school, 
And had to sit upon a stool. 
(That 's the stool I 'm pointing to. 
What! a wart? It can't be true!) 
Here 's where Bobby broke a dish 
Helping Marjorie fry some fish. 



26 Bright Little Poems 

(Marjorie nearly died with fright. 

It 's a cut? That proves I 'm right.) 

Here 's where Marjorie found a dime. 

(That mole there, on the lucky line.) 

This shows sorrow broke her heart. 

(Perhaps when Bijou came apart.) 

Here 's where Joseph teased the cat, 

Until she did retaliate. 

This says Robert thought 't was fun 

To scare the calf and see it run. 

This says Marjorie did not tell 

When some one tied that can to — well, 

It 's all past. Joe's look of shame 

Tells me he knows who 's to blame. 

Nothing good? Oh yes, my dears. 

(Joseph, wipe away those tears.) 

Three lines of life are very long. 

Three lines of head are clear and strong. 

And those deep, well-marked lines of heart 

Show you '11 all choose the better part. . . . 

Lift my veil? Ah, Marjorie, 

You 're the sharpest of the three. 

Please do? Well, then, since you beg, 

Here behold your Cousin Meg. 



For Bright Little People. 27 



AN UNEXPECTED REALIZATION. 

Little boy with the small nose pressed 

Against the window bright, 
What would you choose — what like the 

best — 
Of the tempting array in sight? 

Here are marbles, and horns, and spinning- 
tops, 

Thrown in with profusion fine, 
Amongst tarts and cakes and lollipops, 

And eatables in that line. 

To say not a word of books and slates 
(Which cannot be considered at all), 

Here are coasters and carts and roller-skates, 
And outfits for playing ball. 

First you say that you 'd like to eat 

All the dainties your stomach would hold? 

Then fill your small pockets with every sweet 
That within this store may be sold? 



28 Bright Little Poems 

And then you the largest wagon would buy, 
And a pair of skates for your feet, 

With all it could carry the cart you 'd pile 
high, 
And go trundling down the street? 

Dear, dear little boy with the small nose 
pressed 
Against the window pane, 
If such wishes came true you 'd be sore dis- 
tressed, — 
Suppose you wish again. 

(Though you are, as a " cornerer," quite sub- 
lime!) 

But modify your demand — 
Suppose at this minute some one put a dime 

In the palm of your small, moist hand? 

"Oh, that would be different!" you eagerly 
say; 

" That tart and that whistle of tin 
Would make paradise of this gloomy day! " 

Are you sure? Then we 'd better go in. 



For Bright Little People. 29 



A MERITED FATE. 

Once a proud and haughty thistle 

Sprang up in our garden fair; 
And it plainly thought no finer thing 

Could hold its head in air. 
" Don't come near rne! " warned this thistle. 
" If you touch me, you will whistle! 

Come and touch me, if you dare!" 

As this braggart grew in stature, 

There appeared, one morning bright, 

A round nest of purple blossoms 
Peeping up into the light. 

"They 're my babies! " cried the thistle, 

" And with thorns they fairly bristle ! 
Touch them! You '11 be in a plight! " 

As its children grew in beauty, 

So the thistle vainer waxed, 
Until no plant in that garden 

But was angry and perplexed. 
"Come and pluck us!" mocked the thistle, 



30 Bright Little Poems 

" If you do, with pain you '11 whistle, 
And be wounded sore, and vexed!" 

But this proud and boastful parent 
Came to grief one autumn day, 

When its children with a passing breeze 
Took wings, and flew away 

Oh, we much fear, haughty thistle, 

Time has come for your dismissal, 
For you're old and lone and gray! 

Sure enough, the morning after, 
The gardener brought his spade, 

And with one blow at its hollow stalk, 
This braggart lowly laid. 

Now it 's thistle, fallen thistle, 

We with joy at last will whistle, 
For no longer we 're afraid! 



For Bright Little People. 31 



THE DEEK-HUNT. 

Thou splendid stag! Those antlered horns 

I late had thought to place 

Ere morrow o'er rny tilM hearth as trophy 
of the chase. 

Creature magnificent! Last eve I planned 
to take thy life; 

That, rising with the dawn, with gun, and 
dog, and hunting-knife, 

Through forest depths and open, remorse- 
lessly this day 

I 'd chase thee until terrified and worn thou 
stoodst at bay. 

But now that we stand face to face, one look 
into those eyes, 

And throb of love and pity from breast to 
throat doth rise. 

One glance into those midnight orbs with 
purplish velvet blent — 

Upon those dilate nostrils and those quiver- 
ing sides, all spent, 



32 Bright Little Poems 

(Sniooth-coated sides, whose whitish-brown 
is kissed by dawn's pale gray) — 

One glance — and I restrain my hound, and 
turn in shame away! 



For Bright Little People. 33 

THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS. 

The Rose. 

A troop of tiny, blushing clouds 

Once left the evening sky. 

(For many a sunset they had looked 

On earth with loving eye.) 

They sank upon a garden, — 

A pall of glowing mist, — 

Next morn beheld the Roses out, 

Their cheeks by crimson kissed. 

The Lily. 

One eve a snowy-plumaged bird, 

His beak with amber tipped, 

From heaven flew down, and on the way 

His wings in moonlight dipped. 

No eye beheld him as he paused 

At last for rest on earth — 

But the first faint rays of morning saw 

The milk-white Lily's birth. 



34 Bright Little Poems 

The Poppy. 

A swarm of golden butterflies 
To earth, once winged its flight; 
And pausing each one where he lit, 
Wings folded for the night. 
Soft, misty robe of evening 
Enshrouded each in gloom — 
But lo! with smile of morning sun 
A Poppy-field in bloom! 

The Violet. 

A meek and tender thought 

Once filled a maiden's breast; 

She stooped, and on a lowly plant 

Her pure young lips she pressed. 

The plant with joy and gladness 

Smiled up its gratitude — 

That eve, where girlish lips had touched, 

A fragrant Violet stood. 

The Forget-me-not. 

The cloudless summer sky 
A-grieving fell one day 



For Bright Little People. 35 

Because it was from earth's bright flowers 

So very far away. 

And as its bosom heaved, 

An azure shower fell, — 

Just where each blue drop struck the earth 

Forget-me-not will tell. 

The Pansy. 

The Book of Golden Deeds 
From its binding fell apart; 
Its leaves flew this way and flew that, 
Of every breeze the sport. 
The rise of sun next morn 
Illumed a gorgeous sight — 
Wherever Golden Deed had blown 
There bloomed a Pansy bright! 



36 Bright Little Poems 



TO A LOYAL HEART. 

Look up into my face, Don, 

Look up, and let me see 
If I can from those soft brown eyes 

Learn what you think of me. 

0, I read adoration there, 

And sweet humility, 
And deepest love, and gratitude 

For kindness shown to thee. 

And I read confidence and trust, 

Dependence upon one 
Who makes or mars your happiness 

By every look and tone. 

And as I stroke your handsome head 
And twine your silky ears, 

A feeling rises in my breast 
That brims my eyes with tears. 

For I know I am not worthy, Don, 
Of half those eyes confess; 



For Bright Little People. 37 

But for what joy I 've given thee, 
Both you and I must bless 

That source of joy, our Father, 
Who loves both you and me; 

"Who made me kind, that I might show 
His goodness unto thee. 




DON. 



38 Bright Little Poems 



THE BUTTERFLY. 

Vestured in purple, adust with gold 
That the heart of a lily did late enfold, 
Dance in the sunshine, thou joyous thing 
Of wonderful body and radiant wing. 
Skim o'er the water; poise on the flower, 
That claims thy sweet kinship for Life's 

happy hour. 
Child of a day, thou butterfly bright, 
Thou shalt sleep in the lily's heart to-night. 
Dart through the blossoms, wheel toward the 

blue, 
Rev'ling in happiness thy brief hour through. 
Afloat in the sunlight, to me thou dost seem 
The emblem of Hope in a spirit dream. 
Once more to the azure; now wearily lower; 
Then, a child with a net, and one bright life is 

o'er. 



For Bright Little People. 39 

THE NOVEMBER CHILD. 

(To , the Misunderstood.) 

Hail, daughter of November! Graces three 
Are thine, — Truth, Justice, and Fidelity! 

When all the trees were brown and bare 

And Autumn's chill was in the air, 

Then Heaven, in mood most strangely mild, 

Sent earthward thee, November child. . . . 

As thou didst grow in girlish grace, 

Thy nature showed full many a trace 

(By cold reserve and distant air) 

Of whom thy frosty sponsors were. . . . 

True daughter of the Fall thou art! 

As Autumn shelters in her heart 

('Gainst biting wind and tempest high) 

The life that waits the April sky, 

So doth thy soul await the Spring 

Before it bursts forth, blossoming. 



40 Bright Little Poems 



MARIAN AT HER DARNING. 

Marian's heart 's of lead to-day, — 
Vacation-time, and she must stay 

Indoors, and do the mending. 
Vacation-time, and skies are bright; 
With alluring smile the fields invite, — 

In them time 's worth the spending! 

With sigh and tear poor Marian goes 
In search of wounded heels and toes 

That cry from many a stocking. 
She seats herself, but hears without 
The joyous laugh, the merry shout, 

That her misery seem mocking. 

In and out the needle flies; 
Stitches makes of fearsome size 

(For Marian's thoughts are burning), 
One might think, to view such work, 
That Marian is a lazy shirk, 

Or, at the best, just learning. 



For Bright Little People. 41 

But by and by her anger dies, 
Softer light comes in her eyes, 

For she falls to musing: 
"Why should a mother have to ask 
A daughter help her with this task 

That I am so abusing? " 

And as she thinks, the needle plies 
Stitches of much smaller size 

Till it falls to singing: 
" Back and forth I flashing go, 
Worn-out heel and gaping toe 

To completion bringing. 

" Back and forth I gleam and shine, 
Bringing to perfection fine 

Everything worth mending; 
In and out, wove with each strand, 
Willing heart and skillful hand 

Make a beauteous blending." 

Listening to the needle's song, 
Marian darns on overlong, 
Until, a sweet voice sounding, 



42 Bright Little Poems 

"Daughter dear, run out and play; 
Long enough you Ve worked to-day," 
Sets her spirits bounding. 

But ere she left the house, I wis, 

On mother's cheek she pressed a kiss, 

Because I heard her saying, 
"When Love's inwrought, I could not ask 
A happier pastime than my task — 

Then darning 's only playing." 



For Bright Little People. 



43 




LEI ALOHA'S ANSWER. 

(A P(ukr)tinent Reply.) 

"Lei Aloha (wreath of love), 
(Claws of steel in velvet glove), 
As upon the leaping blaze, 
"With dreamy, half-shut eyes you gaze, 
(Jeweled orbs, in ebon set, — 
Gleaming topaz, rimmed with jet,) 
Can you solve, in prose or rhyme, 
The riddle that's perplexed all time?" 



On me with unfeigned surprise 
Aloha turned wide-open eyes. 
(Glorious gems, in onyx set, — 
Deepest topaz, framed in jet). 
Quoth she, "Long before the flood, 
I was in my kittenhood. 



44 



Bright Little Poems 



Since then, oft I 've come again 
To watch the changing ways of men. 
But though forms may change, and style, 
One truth still persists the while: 

"An angry word and a cruel blow 
Lead to sorrow here below; 
While a kindly smile and a soft caress 
Point the road to happiness." 



This the answer plain I heard, 

Though Lei Aloha spoke no word, 

But on the hearth just purred and purred. 




For Bright Little People. 45 



THE PASSING OF SUMMER. 

" Queen Summer 's dead! Her life is sped! 

The wind sighs through the sheaves. 
" O'er earth we '11 spread to make her bed," 

Respond the falling leaves. 

"Our queen is dead! Low lies her head! " 

To her sisters sobs the Rose. 
"My petals fall to make her pall; 

For with her life mine goes." 

She lies in state, — she, who did late 
From monarch's throne command; 

Her subjects press with mute caress 
Sad kisses on her hand. 

The dead queen lies 'neath autumn skies, 

Bemoaned with many a tear. 
Tall lilies white their tapers light 

To wake beside her bier. 

Through autumn days enwrapped in haze, 
Through chill-grown autumn nights, 



46 Bright Little Poems 

In state she lies till weeping skies 
Put out the watchers' lights. 

But not till all the flowers fall 

In grief upon her breast 
Do north winds blow the fleece of snow 

That hides their place of rest. 



For Bright Little People. 47 



ON THE ROAD TO INGLESIDE. 

A riot of purple and gold 

Are the hills of lupine bright, 

As we suddenly turn the bend in the road 
And greet the royal sight. 

A thousand thousand flowers 

Fling their beauty to the air, 
While from every heart a welcome 

Pours out its fragrance rare. 

radiant sky above 

Whose wond'rous sun has spread 
With magic brush these lovely hues 

O'er each dainty floral head, 

O earth begemmed with bloom, 

We children love you so, 
Because the one dear Father 

Has made us all to grow! 



48 Bright Little Poems for Bright Little People. 



AT THE BEACH. 

Out into the surf we run, 

Then retreat. Oh, but it 's fun 

As, skirts pinned up and feet all bare, 

Laughing, shrieking, we just dare 

Each incoming wave to sweep 

Us into the vasty deep. 

Down the beach race Lil and Ted, 

Trailing snake-like whips of weed, 

Where (minding lunch and shoes and things) 

Johnnie sits and gaily sings; 

Meanwhile breaking in his hand 

At building forts and castles grand. 

Can there be a fairer sight, 
On this lovely morning bright, 
Than the laughing, sparkling sea 
Tossing white spray up in glee, 
While it looks with eyes of love 
At the dazzling blue above? 

But the wind begins to rise. 
Clouded over grow the skies. 



Bright Little Poems for Bright Little People. 51 

Hasten, Johnnie, take your turn, 
Ere the waves begin to churn. 
Ah, too late! They have begun! 
We must take our things and run. 



High upon the cliff we stand. 
Was there ever sight more grand 
Than the ocean in a storm? 
(That is, if you 're safe from harm.) 
Hear it bellow, mad with rage, 
Like a wild thing in a cage ! • 

Out it flings its line of foam 
To enlarge its boundless home. 
Up in wrath it hurls its spray 
As if it would strike the sky. 
Then a sob, a wail, a moan, 
Like a captive sad and lone. 

With Johnnie's fort it 's havoc played. 
(Johnnie Lfcst his chance to wade.) 
Teddie had still more to lose, 
For the ocean took his shoes. 
Never mind, a chair we '11 form 
With our hands, and bear him home. 



52 Bright Little Poems 



AT THE CHUTES. 

Our Bertram has a savings bank; 

It holds just ninety cents, 
And when he adds another dime, 
He vows we '11 have a royal time, 

Regardless of expense. 

To me he 's told his plan, 

And I think you ought to know; 

He '11 draw his cherished hoard, 

A trolley-car we '11 board, 
And to the Chutes we '11 go. 

0, for a ride on the glorious Chutes, 

With heart in your mouth, or perhaps in 

your boots! 
How you laugh and shout, 
How you shriek, " Look out! " 
As you slide, 
Glide, 

Down the steep incline 

To the little lake at the foot! 



For Bright Little People. 53 

0, the Chutes, the exhilarant Chutes! 

Shall we ride again? "Well, we have our 

"doots," 
But we '11 sit and watch the others " shoot,' ' 
As they dash, 
Flash, 

Down the steep incline — 

And splash in the lake at the foot! 



54 Bright Little Poems 



A CRUEL FATE. 

Miss Polliwog Tadpole lived in a pond 

(A dainty maid was Polly); 
While near-by dwelt a Minnow fond 

(Though, somewhat melancholy); 
And with all the strength of his warm young 

soul, 
The Minnow loved the fair Tadpole. 

But alas for the ways of a cruel fate ! 

Two happy hearts must separate; 

For Miss Tadpole must go to a distant bog 
(A boarding-school for Polliwogs), 

That her sweet voice she might cultivate. 

The Minnow wept as she swam away. 

(How could the youth feel jolly?) 
But the maiden affected spirits gay, — 

Most sensible Miss Polly! — 
And cried, " Though I go for the sake of art, 
Behind me I leave my loving heart. 
And when I come back in the early spring, 
"Why, then you may buy the wedding-ring! " 



For Bright Little People. 55 

The Minnow vowed he would faithful be; 

But alas for man's fidelity! — 

When the maiden returned in the blossoming 

spring, 
He would not buy the wedding-ring! 
For instead of a dainty Polliwog, 
His love came back a big green frog — 
With a voice — oh! a voice that would saw a 

log! 



56 Bright Little Poems 



WHAT HER NEPHEW LOOKED LIKE. 

" Dear Louisa," wrote Aunt Mildred, 

" How I long to see you all ! 
It seems ages since you and the children 

Went away that fall. 
Dear, how time flies! It must be — 

Yes, it must be ten years quite, 
For you say that Tom, the baby, 

Now is twelve, and very bright. 

" I 'd so like to have their pictures, — 
Have them taken, if you can, 

And send them by the next boat 
To your sister, 

"Mildred Ann." 

And this is the reply Aunt Mildred 

Got to her request: — 
"My dearest Aunt, — Mamma can't write, 

Because she 's sprained her wrist. 



For Bright Little People. 57 

"We've no photographs to send you, 

For we 've never had the chance 
To pose before a kodak 

Since our papa bought this ranch. 
But I can tell you how we look, 

So if you should chance to spy 
A niece or nephew on the street, 

You would not pass him by. 

" A thoughtful face, a studious air, 

A forehead broad and mild, 
A courteous bearing, as becomes 

Your sister's favorite child; 
A tenor voice, clothes brushed and neat, 

Hands well kept, build quite tall, — 
You surely could not fail to know 

Your elder nephew, Paul. 

"A loving heart, a helping hand 

For hapless beast or boy; 
A ringing laugh, whose melody 

Fills all the house with joy. 
A disposition frank and sweet, 

That never stoops to tease, — 
You cannot fail to recognize 

Your only niece, Louise. 



58 Bright Little Poems 

" A brimless hat, torn overalls, 

Coat all at elbows out, 
A voice whose echoes far resound 

With yell, and whoop, and shout. 
Two widespread ears, like napping sails, 

A mouth that's all agrin 
(Though most when happily engaged 

In stowing victuals in). 
Two bright gray eyes, that have grown crossed 

From squinting after fun, 
Bare, turned-in toes, a pair of legs 

Not quite too bowed to run, 
A bright red head, a freckled face, 

Looks that a glass would crack, — 

If you stumble on him, you will know 

The writer, 

"Thomas Black." 



For Bright Little People. 



59 




THE FOSTER-FATHER 



"It's just about a year ago — the day she 
went away — 

That my broken-hearted mistress brought 
me to this place to stay. 

She cried a lot, I tell you, for I was raised 
a pet. 

(You mustn't think I'm crying, though, be- 
cause my eyes are wet! ^ 

For I J m a Bantam Rooster with a warrior 
spirit fine 




m 








60 Bright Little Poems 

Which I inherit from a proud and old ances- 
tral line.) 
Our parting, though, was very sad; but that 

was not the worst, 
For every chicken on the place disliked me 

from the first. 
What about my fighting spirit? Well, I 'd 

like to see you rout 
Six strapping, stalwart roosters, and twoscore 

of hens about! 
No, they did n't make me welcome in this 

great, strange poultry-yard, 
And from the day Madge left me, my lot 's 

been very hard — 
That is, until just lately. — (Why, here's a 

great big worm! 
Cluck! cluck! come here, my darlings, and 

see this fellow squirm!) 
Yes, these are adopted children — that 

speckled and this white — 
I'll explain it all — have patience — while I 

give this one a bite. 
As I said in the beginning, not a fowl upon 

this place 
That showed a proper spirit or the slightest 

sign of grace — 



For Bright Little People. 61 

You think that it was envy? I thank you. 

Well, maybe 
This green and red-gold plumage and this 

high-bred air brought rne 
The ill will of the roosters; but their wives 

and daughters should 
Have shown that they were ladies, and let 

me share their food. 
yes, I led an outcast's life, just skulking 

here and there 
A-foraging for odds and ends, — I that had 

had such care! 
(The water in that trough is deep; if one of 

you should fall, 
You 'd surely drown, and break your foster- 
father's heart, that 's all!) 
But the story? Oh, the story! Yes, I'm 

coming to it now — 
(Cluck! cluck! come back! There 's danger 

in running near that plow!) 
Well, the story is: their mother was stolen 

by a fox, 
And on the night he took her, he overturned 

her box 
And crushed the seven others, leaving, but 

these pretty two. . . . 



62 Bright Little Poems 

Not a mortal fowl upon this place would have 

a thing to do 
With these dear little orphans, except to chase 

about 
The poor things till their little legs with 

weariness gave out. 
And I? Well, did n't I know what it meant 

to be ill-used? 
So I ventured near the little chicks, all trem- 
bling and confused, 
Outspread my wings, and softly called, as 

their mother used to do, 
' Come, come, dear little babies, here 's a 

heart beats warm for you ! ' 
And they took the proffered shelter, and found 

a welcome rest 
Beneath the kindly throbbing of a Bantam 

Rooster's breast. 
And I am, oh, so happy! and of fight full as 

can be! 
(Just let that hen come near us, and she '11 

.pay old scores with me!)" 



For Bright Little People. 63 



WHEN THE DOG-SHOW COMES TO 
TOWN. 

When you eager young folks gather 

Along the village street, 
And list with rapt attention 

For the trot of ponies' feet, 
What a shout of joy arises, 

And what cries of wild delight 
Greet the gaily painted wagons, 

As the Dog-show comes in sight! 

Oh, the dogs look very dainty 

With their fluffy, curly heads, 
And their bright-hued bows of ribbon, 

Made of pinks, and blues, and reds. 
"What a happy, care-free lot they are!" 

You exclaim, with judgment keen, 
But alas, I can't agree with you. 

For I 've looked behind the scene. 

But let us to the show itself. Here, 
With many a bow and smile, 



64 Bright Little Poems 

The master puts each through his tricks; 

But if you will watch the while, 
You will see the dogs perform their tasks 

With timid, frightened air — 
And will also note that wagging tails 

Are very, very rare. 

For the master, with his beaming smile, 

Has a cruel eye and lip; 
And that hand, so long, and white, and slim, 

Can wield a stinging whip; 
And when, for some well-acted part, 

He gives a feigned caress, 
You will see his little pupil shrink, 

Unused to tenderness. 

For, a few short weeks of puppyhood, 

And, ever since that day, 
His poor life 's been one dull routine 

Of work — no joy, no play, 
No touch of tender, childish hands, 

No voice of Love he hears — 
But, a cowering slave, he lives in dread 

Of a tyrant, whom he fears. 



For Bright Little People. 65 

Then do not wonder, you who wait 

In the dusty village street, 
To watch the gaudy carts go by 

With their gay, bedizened freight, 
That I cannot join in shout or cheer, 

When my heart with thought 's weighed 
down 
For many a saddened little life 

When the Dog-show comes to town. 



66 Bright Little Poevis 



MARY JANE. 

An odd little girl was Mary Jane, 
Quaint and quiet, prim and plain, 
As, bonnet on head, adown the lane, 
She walked on her way to school. 

And, oh ine! Not only prim and plain, 
But dull as well, was Mary Jane. 
Of her teacher's life she was quite the bane 
In that far-off country school. 

But, though she was dull, and prim and plain, 
A tender heart had Mary Jane. 
No suffering thing appealed in vain 
To her, in or out of school. 

So it often happened that Mary Jane 
Would make the teacher loud complain; 
For, through stopping to ease some poor 
thing's pain, 
She 'd be late for her class at school. 



For Bright Little People. 67 

Then woe, woe, to Mary Jane 
For tarrying so long in the lane! 
Her tears and protests were in vain, 
For the teacher applied the rule. 



The haunt of bats now stands the school. 
To ashes turned are bench and stool. 
No longer is the stinging rule 
A thing of shame and dread. 

The teacher gone, forgot his name, 
Now utters neither praise nor blame; 
And pupils, bright or dull, now claim 
Share in his dusty bed. 

But all throughout that country side 
From farm to hamlet, far and wide, 
The name of one doth still abide — 
A woman's name, long dead. 

And wherever tender, kindly thought 
Shall see some gentle deed is wrought, 
Where helping hand is stretched, unsought, 
Oh, there shall live again, 



68 



Bright Little Poems 



In fame enduring as the sun, 
The name of one whose work, while done 
On earth, in heaven is just begun — 
The name of Mary Jane. 




For Bright Little People. 69 



A JAIL DELIVERY. 

The Canary and the Goldfish 

Had a chat one afternoon. 
(The Canary was in singing voice, 

And set his words to tune.) 
" As I hung out this morning," 

He began in plaintive key, 
" A pretty little Wild Bird 

Came up and spoke to me. 
And the story that she told me 

Has set my heart on fire, 
Until, unless I sing it, 

I know I shall expire. 

" Said she, in patronizing voice, 

' How did you break the laws, 
That you hang on exhibition there 

Behind those shameful bars?' 
Then with mighty indignation 

My feathers rose on end, 
And I answered, ' Though a prisoner, 

I am no jailbird, my friend; 



70 Bright Little Poems 

But only a poor songster, 

Who, like yourself, was free 
Until his foolish feet one day, 

Put him in captivity. ' 

*' ' I beg pardon,' said the Wild Bird, 

' For speaking thoughtlessly. 
I did not mean to be unkind; 

And if you could come with me 
To a lovely spot not far from here, 

Where trees and flowers grow, 
And a sparkling fountain drops its spray 

In a crystal pool below, 
Where happy Goldfish dart and play, 

Now in shadow, now in sun, 
I would show you how contrite I am, 

And for those words atone.' 

"'For shame!' I cried; 'to tempt me, 

When I can't go, though I willed ! ' — 
* If I had choice 'tween death and cage, 

I'd rather far be killed,' 
Said the Wild Bird, very sadly. 

Then a moment silent stood, 
As if studying very deeply. 

Then aloud, ' I 'm sure you would 



For Bright Little People. 71 

Be willing to be rescued. .*. . 

If I find means and ways 
To get you to that Paradise, 

"Will you come and end your days?"' 

" And would you go and leave me? " 

Sobbed the Goldfish, with a moan. 
11 Don't fear, my fellow-prisoner, 

You shall not be left alone. 
If I go, you '11 go with me, 

In the little swinging globe 
Where so long you 've dwelt a captive, 

Because you 've a glittering robe. 
And while I sing 'mid the blossoms, 

All the joyous, livelong day, 
In the shimmering fountain's pool below 

You shall swim, and dart, and play. 

" It may be weeks, or only days, 

Before the plan's complete; 
But some fine sunny morning 

There '11 be uproar in this street; 
When, through the open window, 

Of a sudden you will feel 
Your globe whisked by a great, strong Bird 

With claws like hooks of steel ; 



72 Bright Little Poems 

While a mob of doughty Sparrows 

Beats against my gilded cage 
Until it has accomplished 

The marvel of the age." 

The Canary stopped to preen himself. 

" rapture! " cried the Fish, 
" To think I do not have to die 

To escape from this glass dish! 
How I 'd love to see the fountain! 

How I long to try my strength, 
To see if I can swim straight on 

More than double my own length! " 
His companion made no answer. . . . 

Next morn but one, they say, 
The Wild Bird came with a mighty host, 

And got them both away. 



For Bright Little People. 73 



THE MERRY-GO-ROUND. 

Ho, ho, for the Merry-go-round, 

That marvel of color, speed, and sound! 

Up, up on the horse's back, 

Before he starts on his spin round the track. 

Tight grasp of his flowing mane, 

Or you '11 find yourself on the ground again. 

Then here 's to the Merry-go-round, 
The dizzy Merry-go-round, 

And the power that speeds 

Its flying steeds 
That never set foot to the ground ! 

Round, round, in our whirl we go, 
Now up, now down, now fast, now slow. 
Tight to the horse's mane we hold, 
While the music plays " A Warrior Bold." 
Warriors bold in truth are we, 
Out in quest of our meed of revelry. 

Then here 's to the Merry-go-round, 
The joyous Merry-go-round, 



74 Bright Little Poems 

And the power that speeds 
Its flying steeds 
That never set foot to the ground! 



Hold each to his pointed spear 
iTo catch the rings as we draw near — 
Gleaming rings, that elude us so, 
As madly around the track we go — 
Rings that to reach are just too high, 
Strain as we may as we pass them by. 



Then here 's to the Merry-go-round, 
The mocking Merry-go-round, 

And the power that speeds 

Its flying steeds 
That never set foot to the ground! 



All this life 's a Merry-go-round — 
One dazzle of color, speed, and sound; 
And the horses we cling to, as on we fly, 
Are the hobbies that carry us, you and I; 
While the prizes elude nine out of ten 
(Though he who wins may ride again). 



For Bright Little People. 75 

Then here 's to the Merry-go-round, 
The illusive Merry-go-round, 

And the power that speeds 

Its flying steeds 
That never set foot to the ground ! 



76 Bright Little Poems 

ON FANCY'S LOOM, 
i. 
Dart the playful breezes 

Through the flaxen hair 
Of a damsel musing 

As she sets with care 
Stitches in her sampler 

Of patterns strange and rare: 

" I shall be a lady gay, 

Some day, some day, 

Clothed with dainty garments sweet, 
Silken stockings on my feet, 

'Broidered slippers that be fit 

Match for hose so exquisite. 

Mayhap I shall wed a prince, — 
Naught impossible is, since 

Once a king of haughty mien 

Made a beggar girl his queen! 

A princess wears, so I 've been told, 
Upon her brow a band of gold; 

Pearls around her throat are worn; 

Flashing gems her robes adorn. 
Oh, I shall be a lady gay, 
Some day, some day!" 



For Bright Little People. 77 



II. 

Softly sings a mother 

(Sunny braids her crown; 
Pearly arms that clasp her neck, 

Eyes of topaz brown, 
Are the jewels that adorn 

The bosom of her gown) : 

" Babe shall be a lady gay, 

Some day, some day; 

Robes of shimmering silk and lace 
Will set off my baby's grace; 

Satin shoes and lacy hose 

Will her lifted skirt disclose. 

Mayhap she will wed a prince — 
Naught impossible is, since 

Once a king of haughty mien 

Chose a beggar for his queen! 
A princess wears, so I have read, 
A diadem upon her head; 

Strands of pearl her throat entwine; 

Gems upon her garments shine. 
Oh, babe shall be a lady gay, 
Some day, some day! " 



78 Bright Little Poems for Bright Little People. 



in. 

Still weave the girlish fancies 

Beneath the silvery hair 
Of a snowy-kerchiefed granddam 

Knitting in her rocking-chair 
As climbs a tiny maid to hear 

These words of promise fair: 

" Jess shall be a lady gay, 

Some day, some day. 

Gowns of velvet, silk, and lace 
Will enhance fair Jessie's face; 

Dainty shoes and 'broidered hose 

Will her little feet enclose. 

Mayhap she a prince will wed — 
Such things have been, for 'tis said 

Once a monarch cast his pride 

To the winds in choosing bride! , 

A princess wears, so I Ve been told, 
Upon her brow a band of gold; 

Pearls about her throat are worn; 

Sparkling gems her robes adorn. 
Oh, Jess shall be a lady gay, 
Some day, some day!" 



EHYMES FOE YOUNGEE PEOPLE 



RHYMES FOE YOUNGER PEOPLE. 



TEN LITTLE LOVE-BIRDS. 

Ten little Love-birds 

Huddled in a line. 
Dear Charlotte helps her rnamrna sweep, 

And then there are nine. 

Nine little Love-birds 

With naught to do but wait 
To see if Ben makes frieuds with May. 

He does — and there are eight. 

Eight little Love-birds 

Their bright eyes raise to Heaven 
While Mary feeds a starving dog — 

And then there are seven. 

Seven little Love-birds 

Their rapt attention fix 
While Ethel minds the baby — 

And then there are six. 

81 



82 Rhymes for 

Six little Love-birds 

With interest all alive 
To see if Frederick will obey. 

He does, and there are five. 

Five little Love-birds 

Peep through the kitchen door 
While Irma wipes the dishes — 

And then there are four. 

Four little Love-birds 

With eyes on Marjorie 
The while she runs an errand — 

And then there are three. 

Three little Love-birds 

With nothing else to do 
But watch James bind a chick's hurt foot — 

And then there are two. 

Two little Love-birds 

Blinking in the sun — 
Nell speaks a kind word to the cat — 

And then there is but one. 



Younger People. 83 

One little Love-bird — 

The last and only one — 
Sees Frank divide his cake with George— 

And then there are none. 

Ten little Love-birds 

All scattered far apart — 
But each has found his resting-place 

In some dear child's happy heart! 



84 Rhymes for 



A SMALL TYRANT. 

Miss Fluff is fat and fair, 

And almost, not quite, forty; 
(I sing of months, not years, 

For Fluff 's a poodle haughty.) 
And Fluffy is, oh dear! 

What some folks would call" bossy." 
And ever, year by year, 

Grows saucy, yet more saucy. 
Just place beneath her nose 

A morsel sweet and tempting, 
And ten to one she goes 

Off without it pre-empting; 
But let her friend, Miss Kit, 

Just then make her appearance — 
Oh, then Miss Fluff is " It," 

She brooks no interference. 
With many a snarl and bark 

The dainty bit she '11 swallow, 
Then chase Puss to a dark 

Hole where no dog can follow. 
Oh, Fluffy, pampered pet, 

With pride is quite inflated, 



Younger People. 85 

Because she never yet 
Has been by one berated. 

Not only at the cat, 

But she growls at parrot Poll. Oh, 

You see now how our fat 

Poodle's conduct beats " all hollow." 



86 Rhymes for 

THE ESQUIMAU. 

(A Mighty Hunter.) 

Oh, did you know 
That the Esquimau 
With his slanting eyes 
And his funny nose, 
Has only half 
Of twenty toes? 

And to keep them warm 
From frost and storm, 
When the north wind blows 
O'er Arctic snows, 
That the reindeer must 
Give up his clothes? 

And did you know 
That this Esquimau 
Keeps nice and snug 
As any bug, 
In a house of snow 
Built round and low? 



Younger People. 87 

And that he may eat 
Both fish and meat, 
And fill his lamp 
And grease his nose, 
And wear his suit 
Of fur-trimmed clothes, 

He steers his boat 
Where icebergs float 
(When low-hung sun 
Makes waters run), 
And with knife and spear 
Kills seal and deer? 

So now you know 
That the Esquimau, 
With his slanting eyes 
And his funny nose, 
In his furry suit 
Of borrowed clothes, 

As he squats below 
His house of snow, 
With his pointed spear 
And his hunting-knife, 
Survives at the cost 
Of many a life. 



88 



Rhymes for 






THE MI-CAREME j '/' j 



BALL. 




Pretty dolls and plain 
dolls, 
Great dolls and 
small, 
Are making prepara- 
tions 
For a splendid fan- 
cy ball. 




Younger People. 89 

The ball comes off in mid-lent 

And will be a grand affair, 
(Though of course no truly pious doll 

Would think of being there.) 

Sweet Edith goes as " Good Queen Bess/' 

And will wear a golden crown, 
While on her placid forehead 

She must paint a haughty frown. 

Jemima Dunn's rag baby, " Spuds," 

Aims to be a Vere de Vere, 
So through a borrowed lorgnette she '11 

Affect a frozen stare. 

Blonde Mignonne chooses Topsy, 
Black, with many a kinky curl; 

While poor old legless Dinah 
Will essay the Dancing-girl. 

With Punchinellos, Carmens 
(With and without tambourine), 

With kings and queens, and knights and lords, 
'T will be a brilliant scene. 



90 Rhymes for 

So, handsome dolls and homely dolls, 
Dolls lean, and fat, and tall, 

Fail not to lend your presence 
To the great mid-lenten ball. 



Younger People, 91 



THE GROCERY CAT. 

Sleek, lazy, and fat is the grocery cat, 
As he sleeps on the counter all day, 

With never a hunt for a mouse or a rat, 
To drive those intruders away. 

But it 's snooze and purr, 
And only stir 
From slothful ease 
To stretch, or seize 
Some tempting snack, 
Then arch his back 
That customer 
May stroke his fur. 

Sharp, active, and quick is the grocery cat, 
When the shop has closed for the night; 

And it's then timid mouse and wary rat 
Must scamper out of sight. 

Oh, it 's run and hide, 
All terrified; 



92 Rhymes for 

For noiseless paws 
Sheath steely claws, 
And sleepless eyes 
Watch till sunrise, — 
Eyes that are bright 
With greenish light. 



Younger People. 93 



DKESSING THE BABY. 

" The Baby must soon be got ready for life," 

Said Mr. to Mrs. Beetle. 
"We know life is strenuous — full of strife — 

And we should prepare him a little. 
He has legs to run with, and wings to fly 
And two big knobs with which to spy; 
But with horns to defend, and a coat of mail, 
His foes must surely before him quail, 

And put him upon his mettle." 

" I 'm not satisfied," said the Mother Bug, 
" That my son should look like a common 
thug. 

I will decorate him a little." 
So her wing she dipped in burnished green, 
And gave his coat a brilliant sheen; 
With lustrous green she polished bright 
His horns till they entranced the sight. 
And with beauty armed, and strength to 
win, 

Went forth the Baby Beetle. 



94 



Rhymes for 



THE BROWN CHINEE. 

Oh, a sight to see 
Is the brown Chinee 

As he bends o'er the tub 
So patientlee 

To wash the linen 
For you and rne. 
See the white suds splash! 
See it foam and dash! 
As it cleanses the linen 
For you and me. 





And very quaintlee 

Sings the brown Chinee, 
As with iron in hand 
He takes his stand 
To press the linen 

For you and me. 

See the firelight dance, 
And the bright iron glance, 
As he presses the linen 

For you and me! 




Younger People. 95 

Oh, weary and worn 
Is this same Chinee, 

As he takes on his back 

His heavy pack 

To bring home the linen 
For you and me! 

But he cheerfully jogs 

In his wooden-soled clogs, 

Along with the linen 
For you and me. 

Oh, a lesson is taught 

By the meek Chinee, 
As he washes and irons 

So patientlee, 
And jogs along 

So cheerfullee; 
For life's burden he bears 

Uncomplaininglee. 
Can we say as much, — 

That is, you and me? 



96 Rhymes for 



THE DISLIKES OF SIR BARNEY 

Sir Barney dislikes many things. 

(Barney 's a sturdy Pug.) 
He dislikes bats with outstretched wings, 

And snakes, and crawling bugs. 
And he dislikes (oh, shame that he 

Should make such a hubbub!) 
But he dislikes — yes, hates, to see 

A certain tin bathtub. 
And he dislikes plain things to eat — 

Dog-biscuit, bread, and such — 
He must have cakes and dainty meat, 

And sometimes eats too much. 
Then when he 's doubled up with pain, 

And aid for him is sought, 
He plainly shows dislike again 

When a certain bottle 's brought. 
He dislikes the milkman, butcher-boy, 

And the man that brings the post 
(Though of the three, he does enjoy 

Hating the milkman most.) 
He dislikes cats, and other dogs, 

And youngsters on the street, 



Younger People. 97 

And tramping gentlemen, whose togs 

Are far from being neat. 
All kinds of toys that spring and go 

Sir Barney does avoid. 
And when around his neck a bow 

Is tied, then he 's annoyed. 
But into nothingness all these , 

Dislikes quite fade and die 
When, trembling, our poor Barney flees 

On the dread Fourth of July! 



98 Rhymes for 



TWO LOVING SISTERS. 

Misses Eloise and Fannie 

Had what they call a " spat," 
And Eloise said Frances was 

"A horrid, mean old cat." 
Oh Eloise, sweet Eloise, 

Such talk 's unseemly quite 
For though young maidens fair may scratch, 

They surely do not bite. 

But though Miss Frances called no names, 

She did retaliate. 
That night a piece of liver raw 

Lay on her sister's plate. 
And to their horrified mamma, 

Fan made this answer rude, 
" Don't be surprised, for liver is 

A feline's favorite food." 



Younger People. 99 



LITTLE MISS DROOP. 

Little Miss Droop is a sensitive flower, 
Who, if she catches one glance that is sour, 
Will go off by herself and shed tears by the 
hour. 

But her sister, Miss Gay, 

Is blithe all the day, 

And to cheer others 

Does all in her power, 

Let Fate smile on her brightly 

Or savagely glower. 



L.ofC. 



100 Rhymes for 



AN EXCHANGE OF COMPLIMENTS. 

Says Percival, 

"When I'm a little older," 
Adds Maude, 

"And, let us hope, a great deal bolder," 
Says Percival, 

" I 'in going to be a soldier." 
Adds Maude, 

"A bold old soldier, 

Spoiling for a fight." 

Says Percival, 

"When Maude 's a little sweeter," 
Adds Nan, 

"And, let us pray, a great deal neater," 
Says Maude, 

"You hope a bear will come and eat her. 
Well, he'd be 

A sweetmeat-eater, 

Though perhaps 'twould serve her right." 



Younger People. 101 



A DISAPPOINTED AERONAUT. 

A dear little girl from Lehigh 
Had a habit of saying " Oh my! " 

She set sail for the moon 

In a captive balloon, 
And as she left earth waved " Good by." 

But alas for this maid from Lehigh! 
(While I tell it, I feel I must cry!) 

The balloon had a string, 

And came back with a fling, 
And now she does nothing but sigh, "Oh my!" 



102 Rhymes for 



THE RINGING RHYMES OF ALLIT- 
ERATIVE ARCHIBALD. 

Alliterative Archibald 

Is Aunt Alicia's boy; 
His ringing rhymes I here repeat, 

That you may share our joy. 

" Bark-and-Bite-and-Bounce-'em 

Is a British Bulldog bold, 
Who, as he wends his wabbly way, 

A sight is to behold. 

" Climb-and-Claw-and-Clutch-'ein 

Is a creeping, crawling Crab, 
Whose rough road runs o'er rugged rocks 

In search of food to grab. 

" Dive-Down-Deep-and-Dodge-'em 

Is a daring, dark-dyed Duck, 
And the sportsman sharp who sights him 

Has the greatest kind of luck. 



Younger People. 103 

" Espy-'em-and-Escape-'em 

Is an elegant Emu, 
Who, with her head hid in a hole, 

Thinks she is lost to view 

" Fire-and-Fiercely-Fight-'em 

Is a famous Fusileer 
Who makes hearts beat quite high with hope 

Whenever he draws near. 

" Grab-and-Grasp-and-Grind-'em 

Was a greedy Giant gray. 
(Don't tremble, tiny toddlers, 

For long since he 's had his day.) 

" Hunt-a-Hut-to-Hide-Him 

Was a haggard Hermit hoar, 
Who loved to live alone, that high 

Aloft his soul might soar. 

" I 'm-Irate-and-I 'll-Injure-'em, 

An incensed Inhabitant 
(Whose wrath was roused by railroad wrongs), 

Would get even, but he can't. 



104 Rhymes for 

" Jump-and-Jar-and-Jolt-'em 

Is a jogging, joyless Jap, 
Who, patient, pulls a pretty cart 

When he 'd rather take a nap. 

" Kill-a-Kurd-with-Kindness 

Was a kingly Knight of old, 
In days when daring deeds were done, 

And every man was bold. 

" Look-and-Leap-and-Land-'em 

Is the lurking Lion's lay, 
Who yearns for young and tender things, 

That he may on them prey. 

" Make-Your-Mark-don't-Miss-it! 

Is a mighty Millionaire, 
Who finds it far from funny 

That his money brings such care. 

" Nail-us-Now- You '11-Need-us 

Were two nimble Nickels new. 
But though Hal hoped to hold them fast, 

On wings away they flew. 



Younger People. 105 

"Out-climb-'em-and-Out-chase-'em 

Was an old Orang-outang, 
"Who to a tree-top by his tail 

Ofttimes did love to hang. 

"Please-Poke-'em-till-I-Pinch-'em 

Is our pet Poll Parrot pert. 
Fat foolish fingers find full soon 

How Polly's beak can hurt. 

"Quick! Quick !-in-Quest-of Cover 

Was a quaint and quiet Quail 
Whom bad boys through the bushes sought, 

That they might salt his tail. 

" Run-and-Rush-and-Round-'em 

Is a rugged Rider Rough. 
Of praise that person has no need, 

Whose name is praise enough. 

" Stumble-Slip-and-Slop-it 

Is a servant slovenly, 
Who cannot bring in breakfast 

But must coffee spill, or tea. 



106 Rhymes for 

" Tug-Till-you-Tear-or-Tangle-it 

Is a tackle-twisting Trout. 
Right royally he knows the ropes 

And what he is about. 

" Uplift-'em-and-Uphold-'em, 

An unwieldy Umb(e)rell, 
Set sail with Sam till he let go 

And in a puddle fell. 

" Vowels-Voice-and-Vex-'em 

Is a vain Ventriloquist 
Who through his throat can throw all sounds, 

Nor give his face one twist. 

" Wish-f or-Wealth-and-Win-it 

Was a wagering Wight of old; 
Full famously he rilled his purse 

With other people's gold. 

"A Xeriff's-worth-of-Xeres 

Was a Xylophone-player's drink, 

Who when he dry had drained his dram 
Could faster play than think! 



Younger People. 107 

" Yap-and-Yawp-and-Yelp 

Was a yawning Yeoman young 

Who did develop by such sounds 
Enormous strength of lung. 

u A Zoologic Zone 

Is the zigzag Zodiac. 
Who deep delves in its mysteries 

May cause his brain to crack." 

Oh, Alliterative Archibald 

Is Aunt Alicia's heir; 
His wretched rhymes I did repeat, 

That you our woe might share. 



108 Rhymes for 



ALLITERATIVE ARCHIBALD'S SONG. 

Alliterative Archibald, of whoni you late have 
heard, 

Says he 's no repeating rhymster, but a full- 
fledged singing-bird; 

But before we give opinion, we must listen to 
his song, 

Which we hope (with due respect to A.) will 
not be very long: — 

"I sing of a dog in a coat of buff 

(A shabby coat, unkempt and rough), 

Of Blunder, 
Whose shambling gait and awkward ways 
Made his escape in puppy days 
A matter for thanksgiving, praise, 

And wonder. 

"I also sing of a haughty cat — 
A big feline aristocrat — 
Of Thunder, 



Younger People. 109 

Who had no other earthly task 
(Aside from in the sun to bask), 
Save from some foe to tear the mask, 
Or plunder. 

" I sing of the meeting of these two — 
Who looks for trouble now, — do you, 

I wonder? 
But, though the cat rushed on full-sail, 
The friendly doggie's wagging tail 
Made even fighting spirits fail. 

Now Thunder 

Loves Blunder; 
And woe be to those foes that dare 
Attempt these loyal hearts to tear 

Asunder." 



110 Rhymes for Younger People. 



MISS SOLEMNICA PRIM AND MISS 
JOLLICA GAY. 

Miss Solemnica Prim and Miss Jollica Gay- 
Blew into each other one windy March day; 
And the friendship thus formed, so they them- 
selves vow, 
Unbroken has lasted from then until now. 

"Your pardon I beg!" cried Solemnica. "Pray 
Excuse my rude conduct this blustery day." 
"Oh dear," laughed Miss Jollica, "I'd say 

the same, 
But I know it 's the wind, and not I, that 's to 

blame. 

And since you 've been blown this way, and 

I 've been blown that, 
And you 've lost your bonnet, while I 've lost 

my hat, 
An umbrella we '11 borrow, and under it stay, 
Until this strong March breeze has died quite 

away." 



Rhymes for Younger People. 113 

When the wind had gone down, a-shopping 

they went, 
And thoughtless Miss Jollica spent her last 

cent 
On feathers, and ribbons, and candy, and such 
(Though be sure her small pocket-book did 

not hold much). 

"What a spendthrift you are, to empty your 
purse 

On furbelows, gimcracks, and sweetmeats, and 
worse! " 

Cried Miss Prim, in amaze, who then pru- 
dently bought 

Darning-needles, stout thread, and such things 
as she ought. 

Miss Solemnica Prim and Miss Jollica Gay 
Met again — quite by chance — on a sultry 

June day. 
"Hello, Solly Prim?" and "How are you, 

Miss Gay? " 
Were the greetings they paused to exchange 

on their way. 



114 Rhymes for 

" Whew ! Is n't it hot? " — " Yes ; it is warm, I 

think." 
"Have a soda with me?" — "Thank you; I 

never drink 
In a public resort; but if you '11 come with 

me, 
I'll brew you a cup of my very best tea." 

Off together they walked, though Miss Jollica 

quite 
Took her friend's breath away by her spirits 

so light. 
" Do you always act thus? " asked Solemnica. 

"Pray, 
Don't you know it 's not nice, dear Miss Jollica 

Gay? 

"On the street (and elsewhere) 'tis correct, I 
am sure, 

For maidens to carry themselves more de- 
mure." 

" Oh dear ! " cried Miss Jolly. " Since you they 
distress, 

My laughter and chatter I '11 try to suppress." 



Younger People. 115 

Arrived at her home, Miss Solemnica soon 
Before her guest laid silver knife, fork, and 

spoon; 
The kettle set boiling; the fragrant tea made; 
And opened a jar of her best marmalade. 

Then the sweetest of butter she daintily- 
spread 

On delicate slices of fresh home-made bread, 

Which, with sandwiches thin, made of wafers 
and cheese, 

Formed a tempting repast at which no one 
could sneeze. 

" Oh, do you take sugar? and will you have 

cream?" 
Asked Miss Prim, as she poured out the clear 

amber stream 
Of " Spinster's Delight." "Oh yes; both, if 

you please, 
And wafers, and jam, and a big piece of 

cheese," 

Replied the fair guest. Miss Prim pursed 
her lips; 



116 Rhymes for 

Then the sugar-tongs took in her pink finger- 
tips. 

" Shall I sweeten your tea, dear, with one 
lump or two? " 

"Oh, I don't care for much — three or four 
lumps will do." 

Miss Prim helped her guest, who then, quite 
at her ease, 

Laughed and talked as she nibbled her sand- 
wich of cheese. 

But she suddenly stopped; for Solemnica 
stared 

As though a great shock had her reason 
impaired. 

" Oh dear! what's the matter, Miss Prim?" 

cried Miss Gay; 
"Have I done wrong again on this lovely 

June day? " 
"Tis not proper, at table," Solemnica said, 
"To be in high spirits, — in fact, it 's ill-bred." 

When thus reprimanded, Miss Jollica threw 
Her curls back, and laughed till her hostess 
turned blue. 



Younger People. 117 

" Oh dear, how you glare!" cried Miss Gay 

when she spoke; 
" Oh really, dear Solly, I feel that I '11 choke. 

But for all that, I like you, and know you like 

rne. 
And you certainly do serve most excellent 

tea." 
Then again into laughter ridiculous went 
Until her hilarity fully was spent. 

The tea being over, Miss Gay and Miss Prim 
Went out to the ocean to see the seals swim. 
"What makes the seals bark, and the ocean 

roar so? " 
Solemnica asked. "Don't they know it is 

low?" 

" Have they never been taught to be noisy is 
rude? 

Or perhaps they don't like it because we in- 
trude." 

"What ideas you have!" laughed Miss Jollica 
Gay. 

"Why, it's simply because they have some- 
thing to say! " 



118 Rhymes for 

" See those boys down there wading! I really 

am shocked! 
Don't you think that such children in jail 

should be locked? " 
Cried Miss Prim. Said her friend, "If it 

was n't for you, 
Solemnica dear, I should like to wade too." 

That night these two bosom friends went to a 

ball, 
Where Solemnica sat with her back to the 

wall; 
While, hands folded in lap, she watched with 

dismay * 

Her fleet-footed chum dance the hours away. 

When the dancing was over, to supper they 
went. 

"Oh dear," gasped Miss Gay, "what an even- 
ing I 've spent! 

I really think dancing is simply sublime. 

Solemnica dear, did you have a good time? " 

Miss Prim and her friend took a sail on the bay 
In an open row-boat, one bright morning in 
May. 



Younger People. 119 

A big fish swam up, and, entranced at the 

sight, 
Made eyes at Miss Prim till she half died with 

fright. 

Whereat Jollica laughed — silly, thoughtless 

Miss Gay! — 
Until the boat rocked in a terrible way. 
"Oh dear," cried Solemnica, "once I get 

home, 
With you on deep water I'll never more 

roam." 

Miss Jollica Gay took her friend for a drive, 
For, as Jollica said, "They were cooped up 

alive." 
But the pony took fright at an automobile, 
And ran till the little cart lost a hind wheel. 

" Alas! " cried Miss Prim; " 'tis a merited fate 
That I 've brought on myself by my conduct 

of late." 
" Oh pshaw! " laughed Miss Jolly; " it 's only 

a lark 
To be run away with through this beautiful 

park!" 



120 Rhymes for Younger People. 

Now were two fair maidens in most awkward 

plight, 
(To the chagrin of one, — to the other's de- 

light,) 

But freeing their steed and deserting their 

cart, 
They turned right about face and for home 

made a start. 

Miss Prim said she 'd walk. But Miss Jollica 

cried, 
"What's the use of a pony, unless one can 

ride?" 
So, up on his back in a jiffy she jumped, 
Her friend meanwhile trembling, for fear 

she 'd be dumped. 

So, Solemnica leading, while Jollica rode, 
They made their way back to the pony's 

abode. 
Make a curtsy, Miss Prim, — and your best 

bow, Miss Gay; 
For we'll now bid you both "a very good 

day." 



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